Starlight
by totheendoftheworldortime79
Summary: Team Cap has been on the run for a year. Steve, Nat and Sam are in Eastern Europe, tracking down an arms dealer. They are a well oiled machine, moving from mission to mission, ignoring the growing tension between the super soldier and the spy. What happens when that tension finally snaps? One shot.


**Author's note:** So I originally wrote this for Romanogers week on Tumblr. The week came and went and I forgot to post it. I've been pretty busy, but I managed to find time to edit it, so I could post it. As always, all typos are mine.

 **Disclaimer:** Nope.

 **Starlight**

"All clear. Stay sharp, everyone."

"Don't sound so nervous, soldier. We got this."

Steve kept his face impassive, pointedly ignoring his partner's quip. She'd been doing that more and more lately; he couldn't figure out why. It felt like more than their normal slightly flirtatious banter. Early on in their partnership, he'd thought that was simply how she was; she liked getting under people's skin. It was only after they went on the run from HYDRA that he realized the truth. Natasha was simply playing a role, the pretty flirt, to distract from her own issues. He'd been wrong about her; he could admit it. In the years since then, he'd come to rely on her, both as a partner and a friend. Lately though, he'd been thinking of her in an entirely different way.

 _Focus on the mission,_ Steve scolded himself. This was not the time to psychoanalyze his partner. _Or anything else._ Not that he'd get very far. As well as she knew him, he was skeptical he could say the same about her. Nat didn't confide very often, not that he blamed her. He'd read her file, back in their S.H.I.E.L.D. days. He didn't know if she knew that, but knowing Nat, she probably did. She seemed to know everything. She'd told him once that she only _pretended_ to know everything. Steven still wasn't sure if he believed her, then or now.

But he wanted to.

 _Stop it, Rogers._ If the infamous Black Widow knew how much he thought of her, she'd probably laugh at him. He really did have the worst game in history, attracted to gorgeous no-nonsense women under the worst possible circumstances.

It didn't help that they were at some fancy party, working on tracking an arms dealer. The irony of their situation wasn't lost on him. Since Berlin, they'd become fugitives. He and Nat and Sam. Wanda too, from time to time. Mostly, it was just the three of them, doing what they could to keep the world safe, even from people who would see them locked up. Sam had taken to calling them the "Secret Avengers." Steve didn't buy it. The Avengers were finished. Sure, Tony was still at the compound, doing…whatever it was that Tony did. Tinkering on some new tech, most likely. They hadn't spoken since Russia, not that Steve expected anything. He'd hurt Tony, badly. He tried to rationalize it, believing he was protecting Tony from the truth, but really, Steve had simply been protecting himself. Reveling the truth would have forced him to choose between his past and his present. He hadn't been ready for that.

Then the choice had been taken from him in the cruelest way possible.

Would he have done anything differently? Honestly, he wasn't sure. All he did know was that he'd made a mess of things and he was doing what he could to make it right. He just hoped he could apologize to Tony in person some day.

"Eyes up, three o'clock."

Steve glanced in the direction Sam indicated, spotting their prey. "On it. Thanks, Sam."

"Too slow, old man," his friend countered. "Your girl's already on it."

Nat appeared out of nowhere, sidling up to their mark. Steve ground his teeth together, jaw clenching as he worked his way through the crowd. It wasn't that he didn't know Nat was perfectly capable of handling herself, but they'd talked about this. She'd worked in this part of the world for years, under one of her numerous aliases. Since releasing those to the world, she more or less had a target on her back. Nat liked to laugh it off, but it worried Steve. People had long memories, especially people who wanted you dead. Her signature red hair had been dyed to a duller auburn; she wore a simple green dress that brought out her eyes. Compared to some of the women in the room, she might be considered plain. _Might._ Steve certainly didn't think so. The dress only accentuated her curves and put way too much of her pale skin on display. It was effortless kind of sexy and he wasn't the only one who'd noticed. He'd noted at least a half dozen other men (and a few women) watching her out of the corner of their eyes. Which was _fine._ Unless they were a threat.

And in this room, almost everything was a threat.

"What the hell, Nat?" he whispered into his comm.

"Language, soldier."

Steve grunted in frustration. He knew she was teasing, but that quip hit a bit too close. And it was patently ridiculous. He'd spent years in the Army for crying out loud. He knew how to curse. He _did_ curse. "This was not the plan."

"Plans change. Relax."

He wasn't going to relax until they were far from here. One of Nat's jobs for the KGB was to assassinate Russian middlemen in the arms trade who tried to strike out on their own, away from Soviet backing. This had been her world for years during the Cold War. Their mark had only been a child then, but he was the child of one of her victims. There was a chance—a slim chance, but still—that he might remember her. That was why Steve was supposed to be the one to make contact.

As usual, Nat took matters into her own hands.

It reminded him forcefully of Peggy.

Nat could practically feel Steve's disapproving gaze as she batted her eyes and sipped her drink. She wasn't a fool. She knew this was dangerous. But it was what they did. She'd been in far worse situations than this. Still, she had to admit it was nice knowing he had her back. Plus, she thoroughly enjoyed riling him up. It was just too damn easy.

She wondered exactly what it would take to make him crack.

Nat wasn't sure when her feelings for him started to change. It was so gradual. They'd gone from wary teammates to partners to friends. He'd seen her at her best and her worst. When she'd joined him and Sam on the run almost a year ago, she hadn't thought twice about it. Steve had changed her life; she owed him. She knew he would never see it that way, but he had. Clint was her best friend—he always would be—but Steve was different. He knew her in ways no one else did. Not since the Red Room. He saw _her,_ and it scared the crap out of her. And Natasha Romanoff was not easily frightened. But the way Steve sometimes looked at her when he thought she wasn't looking…it made her wonder if she didn't need to be afraid.

Right now, they had a job to do. Find out where their mark was hiding his cache of alien weapons, so they could take them out. She could worry about Steve later.

The mark was speaking, but she was hardly paying attention. It wasn't his words (or leering, she thought as he blatantly looked down her dress) she was interested in. Pretending to search her clutch for a tissue, she switched on the mirroring device that would duplicate any phone in a six foot radius. She just had to keep him busy for a few more minutes.

"Sorry?"

"I asked if you would like to dance," the young man asked in Bulgarian.

"Oh, of course." She handed her drink to a nearby waiter, then took her mark's hand. She could feel Steve's eyes on her, watching, wary. She played up the slightly dim arm candy role she'd adopted for the night; men were so predictable. It was quite sad actually. Still, it was the job.

"I can't help but feel like we've met before," her companion murmured, one hand sliding down to her ass. Nat didn't react; she allowed confusion to wash over her features. Steve had tried to warn her that this was a possibility, but she was confident she could wiggle out of it. She always did. She replied with something non-committal, mentally counting down the seconds until the mirror would be complete.

It was a tedious conversation. He would prod; she would parry. Every time she politely tried to disengage, he found a reason to continue to hold her. She could take him, despite his weight advantage, but this was hardly the place. Any violence would give them away.

She caught Steve approaching out of the corner of her eye, a determined look on his face, like some sort of avenging angel. His blue eyes blazed; his entire demeanor caught her off guard. She was too surprised to be angry. "May I cut in?"

The mark looked askance at Steve, pretending not to understand. Nat knew he understood perfectly well; he spoke five languages. He tugged on Nat's elbow, sliding them away. She warned Steve off with her eyes, feigning submission. As soon as they got away from the crowd, she would show this asshole just how much fun she could be.

Steve inhaled sharply, caught between trusting Nat's judgment and wanting to punch that slimeball in the face. He couldn't understand why men felt like they could treat women that way. His hands had been all over Nat! _She can handle this,_ he reminded himself again. _You've seen her fight aliens, Rogers._

"Trouble," Sam announced over the comm.

"What?" Steve hissed, turning away from where Nat had left from.

"Some of our new friends are starting to blockade the exits. The noose is closing, Cap."

"Shit." He looked around for Nat again, but she and her companion were long gone. "How long?"

"I can try to hack into the security system and disable it before things get hairy, but you'll have to deal with the foot soldiers."

"Douse the lights, then do it."

"You got it." A heartbeat later, the ballroom went dark. Steve's enhanced senses gave him an advantage; he could move through the crowd like a ghost. He stooped a little (most of the men in the room were shorter than him) to avoid being seen, just in case. He hoped Natasha heard Sam's call of trouble; they had a rendezvous point in case they got separated. He just had to get there. Frightened people jostled him as he moved; people seemed to move instinctively toward where they thought the exits were. He could almost feel the tension in the room; most of the guests were innocents…at least, he hoped they were. He heard the click of multiple safeties, the metallic sound of bullets entering the chambers of a dozen guns. He started pushing his way through the throng, determined to get to one of the exits.

"Almost there, Cap."

"Hurry up and see if you can get Widow on the line. She left with that creep."

"On it."

Steve switched his comm off and shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket. It would only constrict his movements. He was almost to the door when the first shots rang out. A cacophony of noise erupted; screaming, pounding feet, more shooting. The muzzles appeared to be pointed at the ceiling, lighting the room briefly with flashing light. Steve used that to his advantage, tackling one man to the ground and wrestling his gun away. He used the butt to knock the man unconscious, then twisted the hot barrel into an unusable shape. Leaping to his feet, he took on a half dozen thugs, using his superior speed and strength to confuse and surprise. _This would be so much easier with my shield,_ he thought, as a bullet whizzed past his head. But no. That was a part of another life. He was still Steve Rogers. He didn't _need_ a shield. He _was_ the shield.

The bite of the bullet on his bicep slowed him down for a heartbeat, but only just. He snatched away weapon after weapon, tossing them away like toys. His body moved almost without conscious thought, fists and feet making quick work of his adversaries. Until he felt the barrel against the back of his head.

Steve froze. He could heal from almost anything, but he was _pretty_ sure a bullet to the brain would actually kill him. "Hands up." The order was barked in Russian, but Nat had been teaching him some of her native language. Not a lot, but enough for him to get by. He could have learned it easily, but he liked having her teach him. Steve compiled, making a conscious effort to relax his body.

"Easy, buddy. Let's talk about this."

That got him a derisive laugh. "No talk. Move."

Steve did as he was instructed, waiting for the moment to make his move. He just needed to get clear of the bystanders first. More muttering in Russian; he only caught fragments. Maybe he should really take the time to learn the language after all.

"I believe you have something that belongs to me."

Spoken in Russian, but even Steve got the gist. Natasha's voice was calm but firm; relief washed through him. At least she was alright. His would be captor just laughed as he took in Natasha's petite form. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Steve said, unable to hide his smirk. "She's got a nasty bite." God, it felt like something out of those melodramas he used to watch with Bucky as a kid in Brooklyn, but that was alright with him. Especially if he got the girl in the end.

Nat arched her brow at Steve, suppressing her answering smirk. This was going to be fun. They could definitely use a little fun. The man who'd held Steve grunted, slowly lifting his gun. Before he could even get it to his shoulder, Nat kicked it out of his grasp, then knocked his legs out from under him for good measure.

While Nat handled the remaining foot soldiers, Steve forced the locked doors open with his bare hands. Metal groaned, wood splintered, but he got them open. "Everyone out! Now!" As he ushered people out, he switched his comm back on. "Sam? How we doin'?"

"Authorities will be here in five," he reported. "I suggest we be somewhere else."

"Good idea." Steve searched for Nat. "We gotta go!"

"Just a sec!" Nat sent one final roundhouse kick at the last man, sending him to the floor in a heap. She snatched up her fallen clutch and took off after Steve, heels clacking on the marble floors. They pretended to blend in with the chaos outside, Steve never letting Nat out of his sight. A car screeched to a stop to his left; it was Sam, grinning as they climbed inside. "Something funny, Falcon?"

Sam shook his head, still smiling. "Sometimes, this job is really fun."

Nat reached into her clutch and held up her mirror device triumphantly. "It sure is."

* * *

To be safe, they decided to disappear into the countryside for a few days. Sam would do some reconnaissance for the next phase of the mission while Nat tried to decrypt the contents of the phone. She and Steve checked into a run down hotel, posing as a married couple. They never discussed it; it just seemed like the easiest cover. Why else would a man and woman be traveling together? It was easier (and cheaper) to get a single room. No explanations necessary.

"Here, let me look at that," Nat murmured as soon as the door closed.

"It's fine," Steve replied, nodding at his arm. "Already closed over."

"That's wasn't a request."

Steve huffed, but obediently marched into the tiny bathroom. He blinked against the harsh florescent light, his fingers plucking at the buttons of his shirt. "Seriously, Nat. It was just a graze."

She fixed him with a glare, reaching up to peel away the damp shirt. The hole was obvious now, rimmed with red. Once she got the shirt off, she tossed it in the trash. They would have to burn it later. Steve's blood—even a tiny amount—was dangerous if it got into the wrong hands. Governments, gangsters, mad scientists, and more had been trying to crack the mystery of Steve Rogers for decades. Bruce's experiments turned him into the Hulk. Nat herself carried a version of the serum in her own veins. But no one was exactly like Steve.

He was unique, in more ways than one.

He was right, of course. His wound was completely closed over. She traced the edge of where he'd been grazed, the new skin pink. "Won't even scar."

"It never does." The serum gave him almost exponential healing abilities; it was what saved him from the ice. He still wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Some of us aren't so lucky."

"Not all scars are on the outside, Nat."

She tilted her head, really _looking_ at him. Physically, he was perfect. Tall, broad shouldered, trim waist, boyish good looks, even with a bit of stubble darkening his jaw. But it was his eyes that held her. Bottomless blue, outwardly content, but shadowed with loss. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like for him, to wake up in a completely different time, then find out nearly everyone he cared about was gone. Or almost gone. The moment she'd learned of Peggy's death, there was only one place for her to be. She'd gone to that funeral without a second thought; even now, after all that happened, she didn't regret her decision.

Steve showed her how to be the best version of herself. She didn't think she was there yet, but she wanted to be by his side. Always.

Sha glanced away, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver through her. "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours," she quipped, quickly brushing past him. An empty threat; they didn't have time to dabble in whatever was going on between them. Or so she thought.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath. Steve spun on his heel and followed her back into the dim room. There was only one lamp; most of the light came through the open curtains. Starlight. "Nat."

"Steve."

"What the hell was that?"

She rifled through her emergency bag, searching for something to sleep in. "It's called a joke, Rogers. Ever heard of them?"

Steven ran his fingers through his hair; it was longer these days. It made him less recognizable, but he wasn't fully comfortable with it either. "The way you were looking at me wasn't a joke."

"Your fan club is online, Captain. Next time we're near a computer, I'll show you how to find them." She was being unduly harsh, but this was too close. He was too close. She never let anyone get too close. If she did, she would lose him. She always did. She moved to the window, her back to him.

But Steve wasn't giving up. They'd danced around this for too long. He'd assumed his feelings were one sided, but now he was pretty certain she felt something too. She was such a tough nut to crack, his Natasha. They put their lives on the line every single day; they deserved a little bit of happiness, wherever they could find it. Slowly, he crossed the room, stopping just behind her. Not touching, not crowding her, just letting her know he was there. "Natasha."

She lifted her chin. "You just don't give up, do you?"

"Not when it's something truly important, no. You just figure that out now?"

Her lips quirked up in a smile. Damn him. "I might be a little slow on the uptake, Rogers, but not that slow." She turned at last, hoping she was reading him correctly. They seemed to reach for one another at the same moment, lips touching gingerly. This was nothing like their first kiss, a hurried thing meant to distract those hunting them. Or the innocent pecks they'd shared to pull off the married charade. This was almost shy, touch and retreat, touch and retreat, Steve gradually backing them up until her back hit the glass. It was cold, but she hardly felt it. "Steve?"

"Shh." He kissed her again, more confidently this time, cradling her face in his huge hands. She was shocked as he coaxed her to open for him, her hands clutching his forearms for support. Where the hell had he learned _that?_ She wondered as his tongue stroked hers.

Steve seemed amused by her slow reaction. "What?"

She smirked up at him. "I think you've been holding out on me, Rogers."

He returned her grin. "You have no idea." He captured her lips once more, his arms effortlessly scooping her up off the floor. Natasha yelped as he cradled her against his chest, his feet marching them toward the lone queen bed. This would have been the part where they chastely curled up together to sleep (both being too proud to let their partner sleep on the floor), but Nat had a feeling this night would end very differently.

Steve laid her down with surprising gentleness, a suddenly shy grin on his face. "Is this okay?" Before they did something that would irrevocably alter their relationship, he needed to know that she was there with him.

Nat pushed herself back up, nimbly climbing into his lap. He caught her around the waist, liking the way the faint light made her skin glow. She swallowed, her fingers tracing the outline of his muscular chest. She'd seen him bare chested more times than she could count, patched him up, slept beside him. But this was different. He must have thought about this for a long time to finally act on…whatever he felt for her. Anything they did would be a Big Deal, because Steve was a Big Deal kind of person. She loved that about him.

Loved? Nat bit her lip, not entirely ready to examine that line of thought. But Steve was very important to her. She didn't want to hurt him. He'd been hurt enough already.

"Nat, what…?"

She shook her head quickly, then kissed him. He let out a surprised grunt, but quickly kissed her back. She cupped his scruffy cheeks, the hairs rough on her palms. Unbidden, an image of that scruff scratching somewhere _else_ sent liquid heat straight to her core. She moaned softly, leaning closer, weaving her fingers into his hair. She liked the longer look on him, enjoyed the feel of the strands between her fingers.

Steve slid his hands up her back, keeping her in place. There was a dark corner of his mind that was afraid that she would disappear or change her mind. He never got the girl; it just felt too good to be true. Especially since it was _this_ girl, this incredible woman who'd lost so much but still stayed and fought, though it would have been much easier to hide. She was soft in his arms, much softer than he would have expected if he didn't know her as well as he did. She squirmed in his lap, fantasy made flesh, and boy, did he feel it.

"Natasha," he whispered, sliding his lips along her jaw, down her pale throat. "Natasha."

God, her name never sounded so good. Still, she couldn't help but tease him. Just a little. "Well, you're definitely _not_ dead," she murmured in his ear. She could feel him between her legs, the slacks doing little to conceal his size. She would remember this for a long time.

Steve's amused chuckle made her feel warm all over. "Is this a test?" he joked right back.

She tilted her head, drinking him in. "Depends on if you pass muster, soldier." Slowly, she reached behind her and began to unzip her dress. The material fell off her shoulders, slithering down her torso until it pooled at her waist. She saw Steve swallow heavily as flicked open the front clasp of her bra and allowed it to drop to the floor. "Now we're even."

Those blue eyes flickered from her eyes to her lips to her chest and back, almost like he didn't quite believe she was real. "Nat, I…"

She placed a finger to his lips. "Don't think, Steve. That is…if you're sure you want this."

He nodded quickly. "Yes, ma'am." Then his face broke out into a heart stopping grin. She hardly had time to react before he crushed his mouth to hers. She mewled as she _finally_ felt his hands on her overheated skin, stroking her back, dipping under the waist of her dress. Nat arched, trying to guide his mouth to where she wanted him. He ran a line of wet kisses down her sternum, glancing at her for permission. She gave it gladly, gasping as he wrapped those lips around one of her nipples. They'd never actually talked about his…past? History? She wasn't sure what to call it, considering he was almost a hundred with the body of a much younger man. He'd insisted that she _hadn't_ been his first kiss since 1945, but that was the first time she wasn't entirely certain that Steve Rogers wasn't lying. Perhaps the serum made him good at this too? She wasn't about to ask, since he was currently doing his best to rob her of higher brain functions.

She cursed softly in Russian as he switched his attentions, while deftly maneuvering them so she was on her back once more. Natasha held him to her, reveling in the way his larger frame pushed her into the mattress, making her feel small and delicate.

Steve could feel the heat radiating off her, part of him still stunned that _he_ was the one touching her like this. Her darker hair formed a halo around her head; moonlight shimmered on her flat belly. He wet his lips as he carefully pulled the dress away from her body, leaving her in nothing aside from her tiny panties and heels. She was beautiful, ethereal; he wanted to capture this moment, preserve it. His artist's eye couldn't stop staring; he thought he saw her cheeks tinge pink under his sudden scrutiny. "Sorry," he apologized, placing a kiss to her bare stomach. "I'll stop. You're just…" It was his turn to smile, slightly embarrassed. "Beautiful. More than I imagined."

"You imagined this? Us? Like this?" Slowly, he nodded. She merely smiled and reached for him. "Me too." This time the kiss was sure, languid, almost like they'd been kissing for years and not minutes. She shimmied out of her panties (they were soaked anyway), then lazily went to work on his belt and fly. He let her maneuver him onto his back, raising his hips so she could remove the last of his clothing. When she turned, her breath caught. Natasha had imagined Steve naked more times than she could count over the last few months, but even knowing him as she did, she was not prepared for the Adonis that stretched out before her. His hands twitched like he was considering covering himself, but then thought better of it. Instead, he watched her, as if waiting for her verdict.

Nat smiled down at him then bent to place a kiss to his thigh. She kept her eyes on his as she moved higher and higher up the bed, her mouth on his skin, her hands exploring. She'd seen first hand how much strength he carried inside, but right now, she could feel the young man he'd once been. Scrawny, sickly, painfully awkward with the opposite sex. He was both, Steve Rogers and Captain America. That made her the luckiest woman in the world.

She was driving him crazy. Steve ran his fingers through her lush auburn locks; he missed the red, the way it had been when they first met. She was enigma then, the spy who wanted to work for the good guys; alluring, but not taking shit from anyone. Least of all him. He'd come to respect her judgment, her instincts. But as he peeled away the layers of Natasha Romanoff, he found someone he could confide in. He wanted to let her in, if only she would let him. He hoped she felt the same way about him.

Steve rolled onto his side, partially pinning her against the mattress, his mouth hot on hers. His hand slid over her curves, memorizing them, drawing her leg over his. "This is really happening, right?"

She smiled. "It better be. I've waited a long time for you, soldier."

He grinned too. "Then I shouldn't keep a lady waiting then, huh?" Despite his tease, Steve slipped one hand between her legs, testing her readiness. She was hot and slick; he bit back a moan. Nat rocked her hips, seeking more of his touch. She had to grab his shoulders when he found her clit, circling and stroking, making her whimper with need.

"Steve…oh god." She covered his mouth with hers, hoping it would swallow her moans of pleasure. For more quickly than she expected, her first climax washed over her, endorphins rushing through her veins. He didn't stop touching her, stroking her through it, winding her up again. She couldn't get enough. She showed him how to touch her, just the right way to curl those long fingers inside her, pumping until she was bucking off the bed again, his name on her lips.

Warm lips brushed the swell of her breast as she panted for air, her body still buzzing from her climax. She could feel him, hard and heavy, against her hip; she was more than ready for him now. Slowly, she opened her eyes, her hands sliding into his hair. Steve took the hint, sliding up and over her, his mouth seeking hers. Their lips met in a sensual kiss, deep and languid, anticipation thick in the air. They'd traveled a long road to this point; none of it smooth. Steve couldn't think of anywhere else he wanted to be.

Nat hitched her leg over his hip, trying to get him closer. "What are you waiting for, soldier?" she whispered, hoping to hide how nervous she suddenly felt. She shouldn't be nervous, but this was Steve. There was nothing simple about this.

His cock twitched as her warm breath ghosted over the shell of his ear. He almost ruined the moment by speaking; his conscience demanding one more time to make sure she was okay, but he tapped it down. She was there with him. He could see it in her eyes. Still, he didn't want to make a fool of himself. So he kissed her hard and eased his hips forward, Nat instinctively helping him find the right angle. She gasped as he pressed against her entrance and pushed inside, slowly, _so_ slowly. As she expected, he was large and fuck, did he stretch her just the way she needed. Natasha arched, a low moan on her lips.

"Am I hurting you?"

"Not a chance." She wasn't letting him get away now. Nat locked her ankles at the small of his back, pulling him closer with surprising strength. It was Steve's turn to groan as he bottomed out inside her, their hips flush. "Fuck."

Steve didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't _this._ She was slick and hot, her walls already starting to flutter around him. Part of him still wondered if he was hurting her—she was so small—but the look of ecstasy on her face told a different story. He stayed still for a moment longer, then he started to move. He was hesitant, unsure, but once again, Nat guided him. He watched her face, listened to the sounds she made, felt her nails dug into his skin as her pleasure mounted. He grew more confident, thrusting faster, harder, cursing as her walls clenched around him.

"Such a dirty mouth," she teased, a smirk on her lips.

"Do that again."

She complied happily, thrilled she was the one making him feel these things. When he kissed her, she took advantage, using one of her favorite Black Widow moves to flip them over. Steve watched her in awe as she braced her hands on his chest and bounced in his lap, giving them what they both needed so badly. She was right on the edge of another powerful orgasm; she just needed a little more. She grabbed one of Steve's hands, guiding it to her swollen nub. He circled it with his thumb, just the right amount of pressure, until she climaxed once more, her spasming walls giving him permission to follow her in bliss. He cried out, her name on his lips, hips bucking up into hers until they were both spent. Nat slumped over him, breathless, but sated for the moment.

Sated and happy.

Steve curled his arms around her, holding her close, breathing in the heady scent of Natasha and sex. He wondered again if he was dreaming, but she felt real. He knew they should probably talk, but he didn't want to let this moment go. For just a little while, there were no Accords, no running, no hiding, no fighting. It was simply him and Natasha, enjoying the quiet. He could hear her heart beating, gradually slowing. She was quiet so long, he thought she might be asleep. "Nat?" he whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Oh. I thought you might be asleep."

"You have a high opinion of yourself, Rogers."

Despite their current position, he blushed. "Right." Was she making fun of him?

Natasha raised her head, resting her chin on his chest. "I was joking, Steve." She offered him a soft smile. "That was actually…pretty amazing."

He perked up. "Yeah?"

Her eyes sparkled with mirth. "Not bad for an old guy."

"Careful, Agent Romanoff," he shot right back. "Don't start something you can't finish."

"Oh, I don't think we'll be finished for a long time." She leaned forward and kissed him, just a tender brush of lips. She didn't know what made her do it; he just made her feel good about herself. The surprised but pleased smile on her face told her she made the right choice. "Be right back, soldier."

He frowned as she climbed from the bed, but she quickly dashed off to the bathroom. When she returned, she didn't bother with clothes, sliding in beside him completely nude. "Everything okay?"

"You mean, am I going to regret this when the sun comes up?"

He hadn't been thinking that, but now that she mentioned it… "Are you?"

She shook her head. "I promise, I'm not gonna flake on you, Rogers."

His brow knitted, damn modern idioms. "Flake?"

She rolled her eyes. "Nevermind. It's not important. What is important, is that we're partners. I'm not going anywhere. Okay?" To prove her point, she found his lips again, sealing her promise with a chaste kiss. He pulled her closer, holding her tightly in those huge arms. Natasha allowed herself to relax, to revel in the safety he offered. She could get used to this.

"Sam's gonna have a field day," Steve murmured.

"We'll keep the PDA to a minimum." It felt good to joke about this, like them being _together_ was an every day thing.

"This isn't exactly how I imagined things," he confided.

"Does it matter?"

He looked into her eyes, allowing the warmth he found there wash over him. It occurred to him that he was getting a glimpse of the real Natasha; he liked what he saw. He hoped he could keep her. "No. This was perfect."

She flushed. "Just don't go soft on me. No damsels in distress here."

He grinned. "Yes, ma'am. Are we counting Sam?"

She laughed, a genuine belly laugh. She loved Sam like a brother, but Steve was right. Their friend could be a little dramatic. "I'm so telling him you said that."

"You wouldn't."

"Wanna bet?" Without warning, Nat found herself on her back, a very cheeky super soldier spreading her knees. She giggled like the schoolgirl she'd never been as he started to kiss his way up her legs. It tickled! "Steve!"

"What?"

Damn, he was handsome, especially from this angle. Still, she couldn't let him get the last word. It wasn't in her nature. "I think I've created a monster."

"We'll see." With more boldness than she expected, he placed his head firmly between her legs and licked a long stripe over her sex. She moaned softly, her body leaning instinctively into his touch. It was going to be a very late night.

The next morning, they walked out of the little inn hand in hand, shy smiles on their faces. Whatever was coming, they would face it together.


End file.
